


Flower Beds & Breakfast

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Best Friends, Easy Defeat Voldemort, Family, Gen, Goblin Contracts, Independent Harry Potter, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Not Beta Read, Unfinished, We Die Like Men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: After Sirius Black's death, Harry's had enough. Driven by grief that's been tempered by isolation, he decides he won't fight for a world that will not fight for him. Seeking independence and freedom, he finds more than he could have hoped for when the goblins tell him of Helenium Evans, his very much alive maternal grandmother who runs a bed and breakfast in Florida.(Unfinished, but may complete eventually.)
Relationships: Goblins & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & OFC, Luna Lovegood & Harry Potter
Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1149425
Comments: 12
Kudos: 142





	Flower Beds & Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> While this is marked as "Unfinished" and is in my crackfics/unfinished 'series' listing, I MAY come back to this at a later point and finish it up. I'm just clearing out my computer and googledocs this weekend and didn't want to lose this in the process since it's actually a pretty decent idea.

_**CHAPTER 1** _

Sirius was dead.  
Remus and his friends might as well be.  
And the headmaster was off his fucking nut if he thought Harry was going to stick around and fight for a world that wouldn't fight for him.  
So he waited until his Aunt Petunia was home alone with him and cornered her in the kitchen.  
It wasn't exactly a heartfelt conversation, but it was one that needed to be had regardless.  
She'd take him into London and leave him there for two days. Then, come pick him up again.  
No questions asked after he told her he'd pay her for it. For the petrol spent and more.  
"Fifteen years worth of room and board," he'd told her. "You know my parents were rich. All I have to do is convert that money into pounds and hand it over. I'll add some for Marge, too. For the pain and suffering she went through that summer I ran off."  
At the thought of so much money, she knew she'd be foolish to turn it down. Especially if the kid was stupid enough to give it to hand that much over.  
So she'd taken him into London and dumped him off with his owl and a knapsack with his change of clothes. Not that he'd be needing them. Harry didn't dare to use his wand to get into Diagon Alley. Instead, he took another aproach.  
He wrote a letter on the back of a candy wrapper he'd found with a ballpoint pen. After convincing Hedwig to eat a bit of color changing nougat left over from a prankster party pack the twins had put together for him as a product sample, he sent her off on her mission.  
Another owl was sent to him where he'd decided to camp down for the night on a park bench. It was a beautiful gray bird, with a little golden trinket attached to its foot. The Gringotts seal, Harry saw when he looked closer. And it had a scrap of paper in its talon.  
He unrolled it, couldn't read it, tried to ask what it was as if the owl would actually tell him, then gave a shout as he felt the hook behind his navel.

**o0o**

Harry Potter and his knapsack landed in a heap of flailing limbs in front of the desk of a goblin called Kneecapper. When Harry was able to climb to his feet and slide into a chair in confusion and no small amount of anger - after all one of his worst memories was connected to portkey travel after all - he spied the name on the golden plate with a frown.  
It didn't take much imagination to figure out how that goblin got such a name.  
"So glad to have you with us."  
"What?"  
"Harry Potter, it may have escaped your notice, but we've been trying to get in touch with you for nearly fifteen years."  
"Great.... What the hell did I do this time? Did I off Voldemort before he could pay back a loan from the bank or something? The mortgage due on my parents house? Some obscure fee-"  
"Actually, Tom Riddle does owe a significant amount of money to this bank, which is actually part of why we wanted to speak with you, but that is an issue that was first brought to our attention upon your first visit here with us," Kneecapper said flatly. "Our trying to reach you has been a good thing, for you. Unfortunately all of the normal channels have failed us and had you not reached out yourself then... well..." The goblin leaned forward some. "I'm the one they turn to when all the... polite and courteous avenues have failed. Nothing and no one escapes me. No debtor too large or small. And no client too slippery or, in your case, difficult to reach."  
"So... you're some kind of.... what? Super Bank Teller?"  
"I have many roles here at Gringotts. And now, your accounts, all of them, have been placed before me."  
"Honestly, I don't know if that's supposed to put me at ease or scare me. I sleep through Goblin Rebellion hour at school so you'll have to forgive me if I don't have a ruddy clue what you're on about."  
The goblin nodded. "You're honest. I like that in a client. Nothing gets under my skin more than clients who try to lie to my face, even by omission. I have taken on the job of representing your interests, whatever they may be. First and foremost, your note on rather unconventional paper." The goblin held up the candy bar wrapper that Harry had found, and his face heated from embarassment.  
"I... forgot my parchment."  
"No no. I'm rather proud of your resourcefulness. It means you're not as stupid as you would have many others believe. Changing the color of your owl, even to such a ridiculous shade, was also a stroke of forethought. She's a very lovely, recognizable bird. Everyone focused on the strange color won't notice her distinct markings. Won't realize she's Harry Potter's owl."  
Harry nodded.  
"Your message was a simple note, but requires further explanation on your part. 'I need money. Can't use magic. Please help. - Harry P.' Would you mind explaining what you meant by this?"  
"I'm leaving. I need money to do that. Didn't want to use my magic anywhere near Diagon Alley. For a lot of reasons. I thought if anyone knew of a secret way into the bank it would be, well, the people that work there." Harry thought for a moment and frowned. "Why do I keep telling you the truth?"  
"For one, you're honest. Two, my office is one of the few in Gringotts where none can lie. Not even myself. Though don't go spreading that around. Only three goblins know this, and unlike the wizards that come in here, you're not going to be obliviated of the fact."  
"Why not?"  
"Because you didn't even try to lie. If you had, well... Imagine what the consequences of lying under that Veritaserum you wizards like to bandy about are? Hmmm? Now add the torture curse to it."  
"How is that even legal?!"  
"The goblin nation has its own laws in these walls, Mr. Potter. And we don't care for the Ministry of Magic and Wizard's Law. That's why there's so many treaties. Each one to force us to obey a law or two. And we don't make it easy." Kneecapper smiled, and it was a very toothy thing that reminded Harry of a shark.  
"Any more questions before we begin going over your many many problems, Mr. Potter?"  
"Yeah... can you have someone call my Aunt in Little Whinging? I think this might take a bit longer than two days."  
"Of course, Mr. Potter."

**o0o**

All in all, it took a week to get everything sorted out.  
And though Kneecapper didn't like it, money was given to Petunia Dursley as Harry had promised. And his personal belongings were brought to the bank. He was put into a nice muggle hotel in Cornwall with the room warded to hell and back and a private two way portkey to allow him to get right back into Kneecapper's office when he needed to be there.  
First they dealt with getting Harry's finances in order to see how much was where and in which accounts. There was, Harry remembered, a lot of paperwork involved in this stage. A lot of things he had to sign.  
This is when he signed over the check for Petunia.  
And signing updated paperwork for the deed to the house she lived in. A house that was bought originally for Lily Evans when their parents left the UK to retire in Florida. A house that was given to Petunia rent free so long as she and her husband maintained the upkeep on it, Lily would pay the property taxes on it since she herself was going to be living in the magical world full time.  
A house that had passed to Harry when his mother died, but he'd been too young to sign anything legal at the time.  
The second stage was his parents wills, which were of course sealed by the Ministry. Yet... it just so happened that Kneecapper found a loophole in a treaty that allowed him to unseal them. Every. Single. Copy.  
This took days of scrutiny. And then... then it was down to the will of Sirius Black. Which left everything to Harry, but with a stipulation that he's to give a portion of funds, and a few specific items, to Remus Lupin.  
Harry only agreed to it because despite the werewolf's faults... he had prevented Harry from following Sirius through the Veil. He had taken up the post at Hogwarts to protect him from a man he had thought - at the time - to have betrayed Harry's parents.  
Harry signed over the authorization for that as well.

**o0o**

It took another week to deal with stage 3 of Kneecapper's plans for sorting out Harry's affairs.  
"Now we get to my favorite parts..." Kneecapper had said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together like some evil, demented little monster. Then again, Harry supposed he was, and said as much. Which had made Kneecapper smile all the more.  
"Your heritage is... unique. And this is always one of my favorite parts of the job."  
"What do you mean?"  
"You have not two, but three parents, Mr. Potter. You are what we who follow the Old Magic all an Emryson. Very rare. Very powerful. And very dangerous to have around."  
"Great, more ways that I'm a freak."  
"Oh ho... a freak you may be, but trust me when I tell you that it's for the best in this case. For instance, have you taken a close look at your family tree? I gave you the book last time you were here."  
"I haven't even cracked the cover open."  
"Ah, well I will enlighten you then. Put your hand on that stone there, to the right of my pen cup." That was one thing Harry had grown to like about this goblin. He had so many muggle things in his office. He liked pens rather than quills. Pencils rather than quills. Pretty much anything rather than quills if he could get away with it. And calculators. The man loved the things!  
"The green one?"  
"Yes. The green one."  
Harry put his hand on it, and felt a sudden burning, then stabbing sensation. When he yanked his hand away there were seven spikes sticking out of the green stone. The stone itself was sucking up his blood.  
"What the hell was that?!"  
"A bloodstone, Mr. Potter. Or should I say..." the goblin said as there was a ding and a parchment appeared on his desk. "Lord Harry Janus Black."  
"What?"  
And that was when Harry was educated in a very rare piece of magic and learned something about his parents and Sirius Black that he never, ever had ever in his wildest dreams had ever wanted to learn.  
"Merlin's beard..." Harry had said when Kneecapper was done. He stared down at the Blood Tree as it was called and blinked. Then blinked some more. No matter how many times he blinked, Sirius Black's name was STILL there, sandwiched in between Lily and James. "I'm... I was.... They were... Magic?"  
"Magic, Mr. Potter. Magic thought lost but apparently, the Blacks kept it alive."  
"And why..." Harry started, licking his dry lips. "Why am I a... what's it called again?"  
"An Emryson?"  
"Yeah. That. Why's it called that?"  
"Because," Kneecapper had the pleasure of telling him. "It was a ritual created by Merlin at the insistence of King Arthur himself as a way to give them both an heir. An heir for the kingdom of Camelot. And an heir for the druids to follow once Merlin passed on."  
"And... Queen Guenevere?"  
"Indeed."  
"But I look like James Potter!"  
"Because James Potter, as you can clearly see on the parchment there, was on top!"  
"Sometimes I really hate that this room makes everyone tell the truth!" Harry snapped, unable to once again get the image of Sirius Black having sex with his mother out of his head. And now? NOW?! Dear God his father, too.  
"I need some time to process this...."  
"Take all the time that you need. But first, sign this here."  
Harry didn't even bother to read it this time. He just signed the document that was slid in front of him.  
"Good. Now I can really do the best part of my job while you're off... processing."  
"What's that?"  
Kneecapper stood from the desk and went to the far wall. A wall covered in muggle items. Kneecapper took down a bat, followed by a nail gun. "Now I can go make my reposession calls."  
"Don't kill anyone please!"  
"Oh I won't. If they die, I can't collect on what's owed."

**o0o**

Harry read in the Daily Prophet that was sent to him, courtesy of the bank, that Albus Dumbledore was accosted by a goblin weilding a wooden muggle bat and a muggle contraption that spat metal spikes while in Diagon Alley.  
Severus Snape also received a visit, though came away uninjured when he gave over what the goblin had been sent to collect on behalf of its client.  
There was a note that was included with his paper stating that many items missing from a number of his vaults had been returned shortly after the attack on Albus Dumbledore from many of those who were not, in fact, named Albus Dumbledore.

**o0o**

Harry's third week out of the Dursley home, he was taken into another office as Kneecapper was out making more... collections... on his behalf.  
This time he met with a goblin in their legal department named Sharptongue. Sharptongue, Harry was informed, also had a very special office. Much like Kneecapper's, lies could not be told in this room by any party.  
"It was decided by the chief goblins that you are a... special case client. Therefore, rooms such as this will be the only rooms you will be met in. To ensure transparency. I must inform you now that your previous account managers and all those involved in your finances prior to the assignment of Kneecapper to your case have been removed from their posts. Their heads, should you want them, may be mounted on spikes and all their earthly posessions given to you in compensation."  
"That's barbaric!"  
"That is the Goblin Law, Mr. Potter. Now then, lets get started. Firstly, as of the wand weighing of the Tri-Wizard tournmant, you were considered a legal adult. Surviving and winning the tournament gave you an automatic O in your OWLs and NEWTs in all subjects you were then enrolled in."  
"What?"  
"The Ministry of Magic is slow to update their records however due to the nature of your unique situation, and the tournament being at least an intercontinental event, your scores were registered with the ICW and are recognized by literally every ministry in the world save this one. So you have really no need to return to Hogwarts, or any magical school for that matter, unless you simply need something to do with your time."  
Harry was told to come back to Sharptongue's office the next day because then, they'd deal with the Tom Riddle situation.

**o0o**

When Harry returned to the bank, one more damn time, he was immediately sent to Sharptongue who looked even more gleeful than Kneecapper after a collections run.  
"After today, Mr. Potter, Tom Riddle will no longer be your problem."  
"Thank Merlin for that!"  
"Today, you are going to use a blood quill." Sharptongue held up his hand to silence Harry's protest. "Because your blood runs in his veins. And he's left a piece of himself lodged in your head. Therefore, you will be signing Mr. Riddle's true name to everything put before you today. But first, I'm going to have a healer come and move the scar from your head to the hand that will have the blood drawn from it. I'll give you a numbing salve periodically. Mr. Riddle has a lot of paperwork to sign today."  
The numbing balm also healed his hand when it was applied. A goblin recipe that was very effective and didn't leave a scar. It couldn't do anything for the old one from the Toad, but at least he didn't have Thomas Marvolo Riddle etched into his hand for the rest of his life.  
Every single loan that was defaulted by Voldemort over the years, every single agreement he'd made and broken, even an old library fine. And why? Because so many purebloods had given themselves into his service. And the man was bleeding Gringotts dry at the rate he was going. "Without gold, he cannot fuel his war. And when their gold is used to pay his debts, they will no longer wish to serve. And there is, of course, the compensation to the many victims."  
Harry didn't really care about all that. He did like the fact he could piss off Voldemort though, so that was a tick in the plus column.  
He also liked that, at least until they removed the Tom Riddle bit from him, whenever he signed something in the git's name with a blood quill, it automatically turned into Voldemort's own handwriting. It gave him a sense of satisfaction each time the name was carved into that ugly lightning bolt scar. He liked to think that on the other end of the link. Voldemort knew he was up to something, but couldn't figure out what.  
The added benefit to not having the damn thing on his head, aside from being less recognizable, was that the link was no longer in his mind. No more nightmares. No more visions. Sure, he could still feel when the bastard was angry because his whole arm would go numb from the pain. But at least he didn't have blackouts anymore.

**o0o**

There were two more scheduled appointments left for him at the bank. One, to remove the scar and what lay inside it. The second to finish out his affairs and move on from this wretched summer and on with his life.  
When he arrived in Kneecapper's office, he was given a cardboard box. In the box he found a baby blanket with his name on it, among other things. "These," the goblin said, "came from your Aunt. We had a human representative visit her with the updated paperwork for the house. She's not pleased, but agrees to the terms you've laid out. Or rather, we've laid out with you. As long as she maintains the upkeep, removes all traces you ever lived there, and agrees to have an inspection once a year by a qualified human cursebreaker, who will be disguised as a pest control specialist, there will be no rents collected and we will continue to pay the property taxes for her."  
"And..." Harry said.  
"And she send her son to St. Brutus's School."  
Harry grinned. "Good. Let's see how long that lasts."  
"And now, let's move you to the healers and kill us a dark lord, shall we?"

**o0o**

Tom Marvolo Riddle didn't die in some epic battle to the death, trying to take down the ever elusive Harry Potter.  
He didn't die on a battlefield strewn with dead children and teachers and horrifying dark creatures.  
No. He died with horrified, undignified and girlish scream as his pet snake, just about to eat a woman alive, exploded with her jaws open, as if she'd swallowed a bombarda. It would take another half hour before anyone noticed that the Dark Lord had fallen face first into his dinner, stone cold dead.  
A cup melted.  
A diadem cracked.  
A locket simply rusted.  
And after a stone cracked and a ring tarnished, it disappeared without a trace seconds before a goblin forged sword could slam down against it.  
The tarnished, cracked ring appeared in a carboard box next to a baby blanket as Harry Potter watched in mild fascination a black ooze drip out of his hand. Two drops of basilisk venom applied directly to the scar. One to eat through the scar tissue. The other to eat the black, bitterness inside.  
And four drops of phoenix tears. Three to neutralize the poison, and one to heal the flesh.  
"And there you are, Mr. Potter. You may now remove your hand from the rune circle and wash away the ichor. A healer will be by soon to look you over and tend to any medical issues you need cleared up."  
"It's really been that easy? All these years?"  
"Yes. We had wanted to meet with you when you first came to us, but of course with Mr. Hagrid..."  
"He's a good man."  
"We know, Mr. Potter. He is. But he's... he's very simple. And unfortunately, no matter how many times we try to help him regain his wand rights and teach him how to manage his finances and affairs, the poor man won't hear of it. Always thinks we're talking ill of his good friend old Albus too many damned names Dumbledore."  
Harry was led into a healer's office. Harry had been in so many of the special rooms that he could now see the slight green shimmer to the walls, ceiling, and floors of them compared to the other rooms and corridors in Gringotts.  
For instance, rooms with absolute privacy were slightly purple. He had learned in his many visits to the bank that most of the time the shading dealings are done in rooms that are slightly blue. It gives the appearance of protection and privacy, but in reality? Every single thing is recorded. Every shady deal made by Lucius Malfoy. Every Will violated. Every single time Albus Dumbledore took even a single knut from a war orphan's vault.  
And the beauty of it was? Not even most of the goblins knew!  
Harry, though, was allowed to know because it amused the goblins that did know to boast about it. Harry, for his part, had no intention of ever telling anyone about it either.

**o0o**

Harry spent the next 24 hours in a healing coma as the goblins worked to set him right. To unbind his core. To unblock any latent abilities. To heal the years of abuse from his relatives and his trials. Some scars, however, couldn't be healed.  
The basilisk bite was one.  
The small dots on his hand where the basilisk venom was used to eat through the flesh and into the horcrux. After being told what that was he had never agreed to be deliberately poisoned faster in his life. The acromantula bite was another.  
There were a few small scars here and there that had been so old they could be reduced, but not removed entirely.  
His vision was also corrected, healing the damage that had been done when he was still a wee thing in the early days of the cupboard under the stairs.

**o0o**

It was after sunset when Harry met, at last, with one final goblin to close out his affairs.  
"Griphook," Harry said when the goblin had been brought into Kneecapper's office.  
"Mr. Potter."  
"It's Evans now," Harry said.  
Griphook nodded with a grin. "So it is, Mr. Evans," he said, sliding a briefcase onto the desk and opening it up. Like many things in the wizarding world, it was much larger on the inside than the outside. Griphook reached in and took a long, flat wooden box out and laid it on the table. Followed by two more of similar size, and a smaller one was set among them. Lastly, he was handed a muggle folder.  
"This is your new documentation. Passport, identification, birth certificate, everything you will need to start over."  
Harry nodded and opened the folder, taking a look at it before frowning. "Mr. Griphook, what's this?" He pulled out a sheet of muggle paper and held it up. There was a photo of an old woman, smiling up from the paper, with additional information.  
"We assumed you would not be returning to your relatives here in the UK and took the liberty of contacting your maternal grandmother in the United States."  
"That's.... that's my gra... I have... I have family?"  
"Yes, Mr. Evans. She was quite surprised when we contacted her after the death of your parents and learned she had a grandson. We had assumed that you were taken to your last living magical relative after the arrest of Sirius Black."  
"She's.... she's...."  
"A squib, Mr. Evans. Just like her second husband, your mother's father."  
"S..."  
"I'm certain if you were to contact Mrs. Evans she would be more than happy to give you the details. In the meantime, we have other matters that need closure here today."  
"Yes, yes of course," he said, sliding the paper back into the folder. He took one last look at the photo - unmoving, but smiling up at him with many wrinkles and lines of laughter in her face - before closing the folder and setting it into the cardboard box beside him.  
The smaller box was a pair of rings. Wedding rings, Griphook had said, which Albus Dumbledore had stolen from the bodies before they were even buried. They were held, supposedly, for Harry until such time as he would marry a bride of his magical guardian's choosing. Harry was told there were three possible marriage contracts for him. One for Ginny Weasley. One for Draco Malfoy, which made him want to retch. And one for Neville Longbottom which, he was told, once the young Heir Longbottom was made aware of it, had the entire thing voided out.  
"It's not that he doesn't find you handsome, Mr. Evans, because he assured us that you are quite dashing. He just, how did he put it.... Ah yes. It gave us all quite a laugh in the office. He prefers his men tall, smelling of chocolate, and slightly hairy once a month."  
"Neville said that?!"  
"He certainly did, Mr. Evans. He certainly did." Griphook laughed. "So I gave him Mr. Lupin's mail address and told him to let me know when to pull out the Longbottom betrothal rings."  
"If I get a confused letter from Remus Lupin, I'm coming back all the way back to London just to throttle you!" Harry replied, but couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice. He knew Sirius had to be somewhere laughing, too. Who knew... maybe...  
The goblins took care of the other two contracts themselves, finding a way to end the Malfoy-Weasley centuries long feud at the same time.  
The last three boxes, however, were special indeed.  
All three were opened and set side by side on the desk. All three had a wand in them nestled into the soft, slightly shining fabric. A name engraved on the inside the lids. "Are these..."  
"Yes. The box for Sirius Black and James Potter each have the Lord's Rings in them. You will need these in future should you wish to claim your place in Magical Britain. Should the Ministry fall and the Wizengmont be disbanded, this ring would make you the Duke of the Hollow, known today as Godric's Hollow and it's surrounding areas." Griphook pointed to the box with James Potter's wand and ring in it. The ring had a lion in gold with a dark red stone beneath it. Then Griphook pointed to the other box. The box with Sirus Black's wand. The wand that was stripped away from him that night in 1981. The wand of the father he never knew about, and the only one he'd ever actually known. "And this will give you the title of Chief Grim and a small hidden fortress in the Forest of Dean. It is a dreadfort, meant for battle. Had you, or your second father known about it, you could have retreated there after the return of Tom Riddle."  
"Fat lot of good it does me now."  
"Yes... well... you never know, Mr. Evans. Perhaps when things don't go a certain magical pope's way, he might get rather... annoyed with all of us. Start stirring the cauldron again for his own entertainment."  
It was a few moments more before Harry's attention was brought to the last of them. The box with Lily's name etched into the lid. Lily M. Evans Potter. Rather than a ring, there was a pendant. One he had seen before only in his fleeting memories of the night she shielded him from Voldemort.  
"Can I..." he said softly, reaching out before he realized it. Griphook nodded and pushed the box towards him. Harry pulled the pendant out, cradling it in his hands. It felt... warm. Familiar. As if it had a little magic in it, even now. It felt almost like... like the magic of his patronus. He turned it over and nearly dropped it when he saw a familiar shape, etched into the metal on the back of the green stone pendant.  
He traced it with his finger briefly before reaching for the chain and unhooking the clasp. It took a few awkward seconds, but he managed to get it on and then stuffed it down his shirt, not wanting to lose it.  
"That," Griphook said. "Is a very special relic indeed. Kneecapper was very adamant about getting it back for you. That, Mr. Evans, is a piece of ancient wizard history. Something that is priceless and must be kept safe at all costs. It, my colleagues and I believe, is the reason you survived that terrible night."  
"What makes it so special?"  
Griphook smiled. "I cannot tell you that, Mr. Evans. That, I'm afraid, is something you'll need to learn elsewhere. Your mother was a brilliant woman. And ever so delightful to work with. You'll do her name proud, I think."  
"Thank you," he said, reaching for the three boxes and closing them one by one. He put them each into the cardboard box, never noticing the additonal ring that had appeared inside it the day before.

**o0o**

Harry had, at the advice of Kneecapper, transferred all of his funds to another branch outside the British Isles. He planned, admittedly, to go to the US and seek out the only living family he had other than Petunia. Originally he'd planned to go to France, as it was nearby and then work his way through Europe until he found somewhere he liked best.  
He traveled the muggle way, with his new ID that matched his happy, and much healthier face. He still wasn't as tall as he'd liked, but he put on a few more inches. He was at least taller than Hermione.  
Letters were left for certain people with Kneecapper, to be sent out once Harry checked in with the Gringotts branch in Salem before he made his way to New York to deal with the left-over paperwork that required a signature for MACUSA's files.  
All records outside the UK for Harry Potter were altered to his new name. Harry Janus Evans. He was pretty sure if Hermione tried to look for him she'd find him easily enough. But wizards and witches?.... No. None of them really gave the muggle world much thought. Hell, most of them didn't give two shits about the world outside the British Isles.  
And that is exactly what the goblins were counting on when they'd started the paperwork for Harry with MACUSA under various clauses for Asylum.

**o0o**

It had taken a little over a month to get everything dealt with in the UK. And another month to get everything dealt with in the US.  
MACUSA was more than happy to accept his OWLs and NEWTs, provided that if he ever sought a Mastery in any subject, he would be willing to take an aptitude test before hand so he could brush up on anything he might have missed along the way.  
His records were sealed, and he was granted Citizen status after a very lengthy couple of meetings with MACUSA's president, head of their law enforcement, and the Muggle Liason just for good measure since he planned to integrate into the muggle society.  
He was given a slip of paper that would be read by one person, and one person only which would allow them to know about the sealed records of Harry Potter.  
And he was on his way via muggle Grayhound bus along the eastern US coast to meet her.

_**CHAPTER 2** _

Helenium Evans had never received so many owls in her life as she had over the last two months.  
And international ones, too!  
Finally... FINALLY she was going to get to see that grandson of her's she'd been told about.  
The grandson that her daughter had apparently been hiding from the world for the last fifteen damn years. Telling him that his whole family was dead. Then again, Tunie did take after her drunkard of a father at times with her idiot ideas.  
Lord knows she was more than happy to pay the international call rates and give that woman a piece of her mind after she'd got a letter from the goblins - the first in years since her sweet Lilyflower had been killed - telling her all kinds of horrid things that they'd learned her grandson had been put through under her roof.  
But that was all over now.  
And she waited with a sign at the bus station in Daytona Beach for the lad. They'd spend a few days getting to know one another at the motel she'd booked them into. Hopefully... hopefully he'd want to come home and stay with her a while. Or forever. She wasn't too picky.  
She'd been sent a picture, much more recent than the ones from the papers back during that awful tournament. Unfortunately, she'd no idea where the boy was at the time outside what little scraps she was able to get from the international press. Otherwise she'd have gone and put her garden boots up their jaxie for putting that boy at such risk like that.  
Helenium nodded to herself, sitting on a folding chair next to her old rust-bucket of a truck with her big plastic corner store cup full of iced tea and a poster-board covered from end to end with the name HARRY in big, bold, colorful letters scribbled in with whatever markers her neighbor Delia had on hand at the time.  
She knew she was early, but damn it if she wasn't going to be the first thing that boy saw when he came off that bus in the next eight hours.

**o0o**

One of the other people waiting was kind enough to wake her when the bus pulled up to the station. The building had closed hours ago, but the lights were still on in the parking lot for the late arrivals.  
She'd gotten quite chatty with some of the others. One girl was waiting for her mom. Another couple were waiting for their cousins. A couple of teenagers were waiting for other teenagers. A couple of runaways, she'd noted. Not something uncommon in a city like this. So she'd conveniently dropped a couple of dollars near them on her way back from the vending machines.  
When the bus came to a stop, she made sure she was standing in one of the lighted areas with the sign up to be read nice and clear.  
Her old stomach was in knots as she watched the people getting off. Some standing to the side and waiting for their luggage. Others just walking right off towards friends and family. Towards waiting cabs ready to get a quick fare or two.  
She searched the faces as the crowd started to thin out, and then, there he was, with a look of disappointment on his face. She gave a sharp whistle, causing a couple of heads to turn her direction. The shaggy head of black hair turned, and oh she knew those eyes. Those were her Lilyflower's eyes. They lit up and the disappointment was wiped right off that young face as he started towards her.  
"Are you... Are you Mrs. Evans?"  
"Not to you, sweetheart," she said. "To you, I'm your gran. Or Helen. Whichever you like best."  
"I... Did you make that for me?" he asked uncertainly as he looked over her sign now that he was closer.  
"I was busy looking for my keys. Delia made it for me. You like it?"  
"It's.... well, it's bright."  
"Good. Means you can see it even in the dark like this," she said. "Is that one bag all you've got?"  
He nodded.  
"It don't look like much."  
He shrugged. "I don't... really have much."  
"Well, I'm sure you're probably very hungry. I know I am. Let's head off and get something to eat and then you can catch up on your beauty sleep at the hotel.

**o0o**

Meanwhile... back in England...  
"What do you mean the vaults are empty!" Albus Dumbledore exclaimed in shock, just as many others who'd come to Gringotts the day after Harry Potter had checked in at the Salem branch of Gringotts to let them know he'd arrived safe and sound in his new country.  
Remus Lupin was surprised to receive three letters that day. One from the bank telling him there was a vault with his name on it, in Austria where they welcomed werewolves and encouraged them to take part in the economy. One letter he received was from Harry, who'd given him an explanation, somewhat, for where the vault came from as well as a rather lengthy and scathing diatribe about letting his condition get in the way of his happiness. As well as an assurance that no matter what he hears in the coming days, weeks, months, years, Voldemort is gone and never coming back. And if he doesn't believe it, go to Gringotts and ask for proof. They'll be more than happy to provide.  
The last letter Remus Lupin received was, strangely, from Dowager Lady Longbottom, proposing a betrothal contract for her grandson Neville, who was quite insistant about seeking one out with his former professor of all people.  
Thinking this one was a joke, he'd ignored it.  
Only to receive another one, written in the boy's own hand, a week later stating quite firmly that he most definately was serious about the betrothal proposal.  
Honestly? Lupin had no idea what to do with that information.

**o0o**

Fred and George Weasley received a letter addressed to the both of them, or rather, addressed to Gred and Forge. It came with a book. Well, a copy of a book. One that had a familiar set of animals embossed on the cover. "Use it well, lads. Padfoot and Prongs would have wanted you to have it. Professor Moony can give you some pointers as well."

**o0o**

Ron and Hermione each got a letter, simply thanking them for being such good friends, get over themselves and kiss already, and he hoped they each got what they wanted out of life.  
Ron was confused.  
Hermione had cried and tucked it away, knowing what it meant.  
Both letters had told them Voldemort was dead and Harry had done his duty to the wizarding world of Britain. And if they wanted proof, well... ask the goblins.

**o0o**

Albus Dumbledore was not pleased.  
Neither was a man that was still sitting in prison, waiting to be sprung with funds his family no longer had.  
And the goblins sat in their bank, smug and proud, as the blood quill used to fuck over the wizards, used by Harry Potter himself, was placed carefully in a special case and mounted in the office of the chief goblin, Ragnok, or as his clients called him.... Kneecapper.

_**CHAPTER 3** _

**3 years later... summer 1999**

He'd been running around all day. It was the start of the busy season and the never had a room open. Not that he minded, at least not now. So answering the phone only to have someone cancel an entire two week's worth of booked time? That was unheard of!  
Three years ago? Yeah. He hated it. Hated every moment of it. Felt like he was back at the Dursleys at times.  
But after a while, once he got used to things, he could see the vast differences between this situation and his last one.  
This one, his hard work was appreciated. He could help people without them yelling at him for it. He could make a breakfast for the guests and have them smile and say it's great. Thank him and tell him it's the best omlette they'd had in ages. He was thanked. He was paid. He was treated like a person.  
Who knew helping run a bed and breakfast was so damn rewarding?  
Harry certainly didn't.  
"Hey gran!" Harry called, shouting up the stairs to the old woman who, despite her age was still full of vigor. "We've got a cancellation!"  
Her wrinkled face appeared at the landing. "What?! Which room?"  
"The.... Hold on. Lemme check," he called back, then glanced around before summoning his notepad from the table by the phone. He glanced it over and frowned. "Shit!"  
"Language, Harry!"  
"Sorry, gran," he said quickly. "It's the purple room!"  
"The two weeker?"  
"Yeah!"  
"Well shit!" she called back down before storming off. Probably to go dust something. Or break it so she can clean it up. She did a lot of cleaning when she was angry.  
Case in point, their neighbor, Miss Delia? Said all through the fall of 94 and the spring of 95 the Flower Beds & Breakfast was the cleanest place in town. No thanks to those funny newspapers of hers always going off about one odd thing or another.

**o0o**

After a long day of hard work, Harry lay in his bed in the topmost room of the bed and breakfast his grandparents had opened a year after they'd retired to Florida. They'd done it, he'd been told, because both his grandmother and grandfather couldn't stand sitting at home doing nothing. And you can only play so many rounds of golf before you want to just whack someone with it.  
Hedwig was out hunting, like she did every night since the goblins had been so kind as to get her back to him not long after his arrival to the small town with his grandmother.  
Three years later and it was still odd to know he had someone else in his life. Someone that had known his mother. Raised her even. Had told her so many stories... good and bad... about the woman that had given her life for his.  
He never took the pendant off either. He even wore it in the shower.  
At first he'd kept it hidden, but when he'd accidentally caught his shirt on fire trying to fix the old gas stove in the kitchen for her, she'd seen it when he'd ripped the shirt off to keep from getting burnt.  
He fingered the smooth front now as he thought, not for the first time, about those he left behind. Hermione, he'd heard from the goblins, had cashed in her vault and left the wizarding world not long after graduation. Ron had apparently gotten both the Patil sisters pregnant. According to Kneecapper, Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley still had no idea they were now betrothed to one another.  
And Neville Longbottom was still relentlessly pursuing a certain furry former professor.  
Harry let go of the necklace, letting it fall back down onto his chest as he turned over to his side, facing the window across the room.

**o0o**

Hermione Granger had enough.  
She'd been top of her class in everything.  
Prefect for two years and Head Girl in the last one.  
She was all set to go straight into her apprenticeship for a Mastery in Runes when that damn Ministry decided to, yet again, ignore common bloody sense.  
"Marriage decree?! Muggleborns must marry purebloods?! One husband can have two wives?! Are you kidding me?!"  
She could have found someone that might have helped her situation, but quite frankly when the 90 year old man who'd agreed to take her on as an apprentice turned around and immediately told her it was pointless and he'd only accepted her because she was "young and fertile", she'd snapped her wand right then and there and walked away.  
And that was another thing!  
The more Hermione railed about it, the more Rita Skeeter went out of her wait to write about it!  
And so, she marched down to Gringotts, demanded to speak to her account manager, and then emptied every last knut and shut it down.  
Angry, and bitter, she'd returned home and packed away anything magical save her cat, and swore off magic for good.  
At least... until the owls started arriving. More and more muggleborns were leaving Magical Britain.  
Hermione Granger had, rather unintentionally, started a muggleborn revolution.  
And all the while, the goblins of Gringotts smiled their smug little smiles as gold flew out of their vaults, converted into muggle currency, and then flooded right back into their pockets as the muggleborns turned to goblin backed muggle banks.  
It was a very good time to be a goblin of Gringotts.

**o0o**

When Harry wasn't running errands for the B&B, he was helping out around town.  
Town wasn't very large. In fact, town consisted of the B&B, a post office, a few shops, a hotel, and a temple. There was a small park, but then again nearly every few feet was a small park. A sign in this person's yard declaring this one foot by one foot square a state park. A tree over in another one was also listed as a protected state park.  
It was how the town of Ghost Lake kept the muggles from developing the land around them. It took a total of ten minutes to walk from one end of town to the other, even in the rain.  
Sure, there were muggles that lived there, but they were mostly the woo-woo types, as his gran called them. People who not only believed in magic, but all sorts of crazy things. Like aliens.  
It was, his gran had said, the perfect cover for magic users. The town had been an experiment of sorts, to see if muggles and magicals could live side by side in an isolated pocket. And it worked!  
It worked too well.  
It was also the one place exempt from Rapport's Law before the law had been repealed in the eighties. So long as the common tourists don't find out about the real magic of the place, it didn't matter what they saw or did. It was part of the reason Helenium and Corinth Evans had decided to move from Daytona Beach to Ghost Lake. Once they were able to prove they were both squibs that is.  
And it was on one such day of helping out in town that Harry came across someone he never expected to see hanging around the post office.  
"Luna Lovegood?!"  
The girl looked up with a bright smile. "Hello Harry Whats-your-name!"  
He blinked at her and frowned.... Then her remembered. The Potter bit was a secret. He'd changed it to help himself hide. "Evans," he said simply. "After my mother."  
"It suits you very well now," she said. "Are you living here, too?"  
"Yeah. With family," he said, scratching the side of his head with the envelope he'd been asked to mail off for one of the astrologers up the street. "Wait, what do you mean by 'too'?"  
"Oh daddy and I left. We've been traveling around, you see, hoping to find somewhere else before things get bad again."  
"So you just... packed up everything and-"  
"Oh yes. Daddy even blew up the Rookery. It was quite a spectacular sight," she said, turning to... well... at first Harry thought it was nothing. And then the ghost of her father grinned and poked his head through the lamp post. "Unfortunately... he didn't exactly remember to leave before he did it."  
"Ah Moonbeam," his ghost said fondly. "Where'd be the fun in that. Besides, I can see so many of your creatures now!"  
Luna nodded. "We've just bought a cottage down the road. Just past the Ghost Lake."  
"That's... that's nice. Unexpected, but nice," he said. "Is it the one with the brown stain on the side or the one with the lopsided porch?"  
"Lopsided porch," she said. "Mr. Horner was very happy to meet daddy. I think they'll get along famously."  
"You do know Mr. Horner comitted suicide in their two years ago, right?"  
Luna nodded, brushing her hair back behind her ear. "He was just lonely and needed a friend. Now, he's got one with daddy. So where do you live, Harry?"  
"Flowerbeds," he said, using the envelope to point towards the large white house and the end of the street. Well, the opposite end of the street from Luna's new, creepy house anyway. "Come by sometime. I'm sure my gran would love to meet you."  
"Thank you, Harry."  
"I've really got to get going though. Have to mail this off for Miss Sheree and then I'm off into the next town for a food run for a couple of the old codgers back behind the hotel. When I've got some free time, I'd be happy to show you around the area outside town. Have you ever had pizza?"  
"I have. It's very good."  
"There's a great place nearby. We'll go there for lunch sometime and catch up."

**o0o**

Having Luna in town helped ease some of Harry's regrets, but not all.  
He'd lived up to the promise of showing her around the area outside town. The nearest small cities in each direction. A local muggle bank, the grocery stores, even a couple of muggle schools. Sometimes, if he could get the entire day away, he took her to a nearby state park. Much larger than the oddball ones in town. He thought she'd appreciate the open space and all the birds.  
It was in this setting that she'd finally felt safe enough to let go and tell him what really happened to her father and why she'd really left the UK.  
She'd been targeted by a muggleborn from Ravenclaw who'd bullied her the entire time she'd been at Hogwarts, insisting that they had to marry because of the new decrees. "The thing is, Harry, I don't think I'll ever marry anyone. I don't really see myself as the marrying type. And then... when Daddy started printing interviews from those who left the magical world because of it, he was attacked."  
"I'm sorry, Luna..."  
"It's not your fault."  
"Isn't Dumbledore doing anything about this? He's been the biggest muggleborn supporter for longer than we've been alive."  
"It was his idea," Luna said softly.  
"What?"  
"To force the purebloods to stop inbreeding. He thinks... he thought that it would prevent more dark lords."  
"That's really stupid. What the hell gave him that idea?"  
"You did."  
Harry nearly dropped his water bottle as he stared at her a long moment. "What?"  
"Your mom and dad. A muggleborn and a pureblood. His claim to the Wizengmont was that your mother being a muggleborn prevented the... mental defects that lead to people like Tom Riddle and Bellatrix LeStrange."  
"If my dads heard that, they'd both slap that man silly," he said. "Just because I came out reasonably okay doesn't mean everyone would. Hell, Tom Riddle didn't. He was a half-blood. More halfblood than I ever was."  
"What do you mean?"  
"About what? Riddle? His mum was barely a witch. Almost a squib, really. And his dad-"  
"No. I mean you. You had two fathers?"  
"Yeah. Lily Evans was my mom, but my dads were Sirus Black and James P-P-P well shit I can't even say it. It's protected. But you know who I mean."  
Luna smiled, looking away then. "That explains a lot. I always knew you were a little... mad."  
"Don't get started on that. I didn't get the Black Maddness, thank you very much."  
"I don't know... I mean, you did start a school rebellion against a toad."  
"And fought a basilisk."  
"And outflew a dragon."  
"Fought off merpeople."  
"Killed the dark lord by magical contract."  
"Is that how you did it? Well, that's rather funny."  
Harry nudged her shoulder with his own, glad to see the smile back on his friend's face. "He who is reborn by the contract, is killed by the contract," he said, doing his best imitation of a goblin voice as he could. She giggled. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

**o0o**

Harry helped Luna get a job at one of the shops in town.  
Luna agreed to do it on the condition he helped her get a muggle education.  
His grandmother helped her enroll in night classes at the community college for a GED, the same as she did for Harry.

_ **CHAPTER 4** _

**October 30, 2001**

Harry sat on the porch of the hotel, poking at his plate. Soon enough, Luna dropped into the chair beside him. "Someone's grumpy."  
"Date was a bust," he said with a frown.  
"What?!"  
"Yeah. Another one who can't remember my last name, but insisted that I sign their biography of The-Boy-Who-Lived."  
"I'm surprised they can even remember what you look like. I know when you came across me two years ago, I hardly recognized you."  
"Well a nice Florida tan and a haircut will do that to a guy."  
Luna nudged him with her shoulder. "Chin up, Mr. Evans. I think something very good is going to you tomorrow."  
"You say that every Halloween."  
"I have it on good authority that you're going to wake up tomorrow to some really good news."  
"I doubt it."  
Luna plucked a fry from his plate with a grin. "Trust me, Harry. I know these things."

**o0o**

Harry woke up the morning of October 31st to find his grandmother sitting by his bed clutching a newspaper.  
"Harry. Harry wake up."  
He rolled over, groggy and grumpy. "It's not even six in the bloody morning woman!"  
"Is that any way to talk to your doting grandmother."  
"It is when she's a bloody slave driver," he groaned, then tried to bury his head under a pillow. "Go away!"  
"Fine. But I'm leaving this right here for you when you get up, young man," Helen said, leaving the newspaper spread out for him to see first thing when he got up.

**o0o**

Two hours after he'd been so rudely woken up, he actually climbed out of bed. He'd gotten back to sleep, but it wasn't exactly restful. And it annoyed Harry immensely.  
After showering quickly and then running a comb through his hair to look half-way human, he glanced at the newspaper his grandmother had left spread open on his desk. The moving pictures caught his eye. She didn't get many of the wizarding papers here, but once in a while would get an international one sent to her by the goblins. It's how she had kept up with him and the Tri-Wiz his fourth year.  
Harry got a good look at the front page just long enough to realize something big had happened. He pulled on his trainers, ran downstairs, realized he'd forgotten to put shorts on over his briefs, and then ran back up to actually get dressed. The newspaper was rolled up in one hand as the other was yanking a t-shirt over his head.  
"Going somewhere?" his grandmother called out from the kitchen when he'd dashed in to grab some bacon and eggs, throwing them between two slices of buttered toast and heading for the back door.  
"I've got to get to Luna's! She was right! She was bloody well right!"  
"You tell that girl to come by in a few days. She missed our midnight tea last Sunday."  
"Yeah. Yeah sure. Whatever." He came back, gave her a kiss to the cheek before bolting outside, the screen door bouncing against the frame in his wake.  
She smiled, shaking her head as she continued to make the breakfast for their paying guests.

**o0o**

Luna was groggy when Harry came banging on her front door.  
She'd opened it in nothing but one of his old t-shirts and a tattered but comfortable looking bath robe.  
"What?"  
"Look!" he exclaimed, taking the newspaper out and holding it up so she could see the front page. "It's a muggleborn revolution!"  
Luna stepped aside to let him in. "I told you something would make you happy today."  
"God, look! Just look at her! She's like a... a..."  
"A revolutionary?" Luna suggested, locking her front door back. "I know Hermione's stunning with her battle robes and the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry. But have you seen the Society pages yet?"  
"What?"  
"Take a look at the rest of the paper while I fix up some tea. Or coffee."  
"Coffee for me please," he said. "And gran says you'd best come by for your midnight teaparty!" he called after her as he seated himself on her odd, but comfortable sofa. Harry scooted forward to sit on the edge and started looking through the rest of the paper. The Weasley Twins were expanding their business to the US, opening a branch in Salem. That was good to hear.  
The ministry started executing werewolves again, only to have the minister bitten and turned into one by Fenrir Greyback in revenge.  
A lot of gossip and fashion.  
"Here," Luna said when she'd brought him a hot cup. "It's the muggle instant powder."  
"That's fine," he said, taking a sip and grimmacing. "A little more sugar next time though."  
Luna smiled at him. "Have you seen it yet?"  
"I'm reading. I'm reading," he said, then that's when he saw it. A photo from the Malfoy wedding.  
The Malfoy-Weasley wedding.  
"Oh I bet they were so pissed!"  
"I know I was surprised when Neville wrote to me about it."  
"You still talk to Neville?"  
"Oh yes. Don't worry, Harry. He doesn't know about you. I just tell him I have a friend named Bob who works at the hotel here whenever I want to talk about you."  
"Thank you," he said with a tight smile after taking another sip of the not-quite-good coffee.  
"As it turns out, it took just the right amount of attention off of Neville and his wedding after the disaster it turned out ot be."  
Harry looked up, then sat back more comfortably on the sofa. "Oh really?"  
She nodded, summoning her last letter from her friend overseas. "I don't think he'd mind if you saw these."  
Harry accepted the letter, finding photographs included. He smiled when he saw a very familiar scarred face in them. Looking rather smart in his formal robes. And quite happy, too. He felt a stab in his heart then, watching one of the photos as spellfire flew past Remus's head, which suddenly caused Neville to, well... Well Harry must admit he really wasn't expecting to see a large black bear where Neville was standing before the photo looped back around.  
"Someone tried to kill Remus at his own wedding?!"  
"With everyone focused on the Malfoy wedding, they emptied the Longbottom vaults and fled to Canada."  
"Neville's gran, too?"  
"She passed about a year ago. But Neville says she approved of the match so... really, it was Professor Lupin having himself a pity party all the way up until the wedding day." Luna laughed. "He didn't know Neville learned to become an animagus for him. It was supposed to be a surprise."  
"Well, that's one hell of a way to surprise a man," Harry said. "Do you mind if I... If I keep one of these?"  
"Not the one with the bear. That's my favorite. I think I'll frame it for my mantle."

**o0o**

Without Harry, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the people turned to Albus Dumbledore in this time of crisis as the magical world of Britain was falling apart. The Muggleborn Uprising, they had called it, had been going on since late 1998.  
And it was, unfortunately, led by one of the most talented, most gifted, and most cunning witches of the age. And somehow, the woman had some rather powerful backers.  
Muggle paints sprayed from muggle cans but charmed to be everlasting were commonly seen in the streets of magical neighborhoods declaring brightly and proudly _"WE ARE LEGION! FOR WE ARE MANY!"_  
Seamus Finnegan, though not a muggleborn himself, was very proud of that one.  
Depictions of muggle rockets slaying dragons. Death Eater styled masks with muggle bullet holes found in the streets of every major magical center in the country.  
Something had to be done. The entire country was becoming destabilized and eventually... it would be a new dark age of the Magical World.  
Or rather, Magical Britain, which saw itself as the most important thing in all of the Magical World.

**o0o**

Hermione Granger was surprised to see a goblin so far out from London. Especially in her neck of the woods.  
It came under a white flag of peace, bearing a message from someone who, though he could not fight at her side, did wish to provide some aid to her in her fight for freedom.  
"Battle Magus Granger! I am Kneecapper of Gringotts! I come to parley on behalf of a client!"  
That, and the flag, got him brought through the door of the old military base they were using as headquarters.  
But it was the letter he had brought with him that gave the headstrong muggleborn leader cause to truly welcome him. It was a letter from a very old friend and came with a key on a chain to hang around her neck.  
"Your client," Hermione had said as she folded the letter. "Did he mention-"  
"He regrets that he cannot take part in your glorious campaign for justice and freedom, but he offers the use of the dreadfort of the Chief Grim. That key will give you entry, however it will be taken back once your glorious war has ended."  
"So he's not coming."  
"No. He's quite happy where he is, content that no one is seeking to take his life every year. You apparently look very ravishing in your battle robes and he has full confidence that your will prevail based on sheer numbers alone. Also, another client of mine, Miss Lovegood, says you're doing great, sweetie. Keep it up."

**o0o**

**May 2, 2002**

Harry was 21 years old and he was drunk as hell.  
It wasn't the first time he was drunk as hell.  
And it wouldn't be the last time.  
"Why did he dump, Luna?"  
"I don't know, Harry."  
The two friends were laying on their backs in Harry's bedroom at the Flowerbeds. The radio was on, and they lay staring at the ceiling where she'd charmed it to look like the night sky for him. Or rather, just the sky in general. It was no Great Hall of Hogwarts, but it was theirs.  
"That's it. I'm swearing off relationships. It's just... It's too much trouble."  
"You knew it wouldn't last," Luna said, nudging her friend's arm with her own. "Besides, he was an asshole anyway."  
"Still hurts."  
"I know, Harry. But look at it this way," she said, her other hand holding up a bottle of very fine liquor. "We've got the good stuff while he's driving off with a crate of water down dragon piss."  
"LUNA!"  
"Okay, so maybe not -dragon- piss. But he's not going to forget what happens when he upsets a witch's best friend when he gets a sip of that mess."  
"You didn't actually turn everything in his car into pee did you?"  
"Of course not!" she said. "I had the boys down at the hotel piss in his water bottles and sort of.... left them in his cooler for a two days. THEN I put them in his car."  
Harry grinned, nuding her arm before sliding his hand over drunkenly and holding her hand. "You're the best friend a guy could have, Moonbeam," he said, then ruined the moment by puking on himself.

**o0o**

**Elsewhere in the world on May 2, 2002...**

Hermione Granger, leader of the Revolution, Commander of the Muggleborn Legion, and champion of house elves everywhere, raised her sword high in the air and gave a mighty scream. "NO QUARTER!" she cried as the disenfranchised Muggleborns descended on the Ministry of Magic.  
Albus Dumbledore, of course, painted her as the next dark lord, or in her case dark lady. Despite the fact that the only morally gray spell anyone used was a slightly overpowered cutter.  
The muggleborns, half-bloods, and squibs that followed her though? To them, she was Hermione Granger, The Great Liberator.  
Though, to be fair, the house elves still didn't like her all that much.

_**CHAPTER 5** _

**Summer 2003**

"Yeah! Well you can just fuck right off then!" Luna shouted, quite angry at the woman who'd followed Harry to her home, forced her way into the building, and accused them of sleeping together.  
It didn't matter that Harry had volunteered to be Luna's guinea pig for fully clothed massage therapy practice. It didn't matter that there were charts and text books out along with class notes where Luna had clearly been paying attention to her teacher's lectures in her Physical Therapy certification program.  
No. Brandy the jealous, crazy bint, had broken the lock on the young woman's front door when she heard her boyfriend Harry moaning in pure relief after days of unrelenting back spasms from the LAST time he had let Luna use him as a practice dummy.  
Needless to say, the relief quickly went away and was replaced with a sudden sharp stabbing pain near his shoulder blade when Luna's hand had slipped and pressed too hard at a really awkward angle and he'd shouted about it. Brandy, who had just gone from current to ex-girlfriend of Harry's became quite angry at this and threatened to slash his tires.  
Luna, understandably, told the woman to leave her home. And when she did not comply, Luna again, rather understandably, threw the nearest thing she had on hand - a decorative ceramic fruit bowl - at the woman before stepping over Harry and chasing her out of the place.  
Which is where we came in. Luna in her front yard, throwing rocks at the woman to keep her away from Harry's truck, while shouting many profanities at her. When Luna came back inside, she tossed a rock and a pine cone to the floor beside her front door, smiled cheerfully and said, "Now, where were we. Oh right! Yes, your shoulders!"

**o0o**

Harry was hit with a rolled up newspaper when he came crawling back home that night.  
Brandy had vindicitively egged the bed and breakfast.  
And because Harry had pissed her off, Harry had to be the one to clean it up.  
The old fashioned muggle way.


End file.
